Four Seasons
by chinesefirethorn
Summary: LeeGaara ficlet. The feeling one might get when one's precious person alternates between coming and going as the season changes. Set when Gaara is Kazekage. [Leecentric]
1. A bright tomorrow

Note: To be read slooowly unless the punctuation marks(or lack of) say so! The first chapter is the original document with the seasons arranged backwards for a happy end. The second chapter is the same with the seasons properly arranged but with a sad end. Choose your preference.

Disclaimer: Only the writing belongs to me. Characters belong to Kishimoto-sensei.

**FOUR SEASONS**  
by chinesefirethorn

**Winter**

Purity. Blinding white powder cream sliding sloshing turning falling yelling landing blinking smiling laughing BE still. Listening… A sigh. Standing wiping brushing walking trudge trudge foot sinking all that is left are footprints in the snow.

No one is with you.  
It was the loneliest season of the year.

**Fall**

Red. Crimson shades and coarse textures. Strands tossed and played with by the wind. Yellow. Saffron grains shifting and hissing. Glimpses of dark-ringed emeralds through a whirl of sand. Orange. A leaf falls, gently, slowly, floating down… until a bandaged hand catches it.

Nostalgia can be a painful companion.  
It was the season of colors.

**Summer**

Sunlight, with its heat, bores down on skin. Tanned muscled skin. Solid objects blur around the edges as they are pounded on by waves only slightly visible. Stifling, but the perfect excuse to train topless. Thud. Kick. Crack. Punch. Back at my favorite training stump.

Another hit, solid wall, a jolt in my concentration. Water rushing, the sound echoes in the rainless skies. A tendril of yellow beckons then merges with its kind. He flicks his eyes up and straightens from his slouch.

Flushed skin with no trace of sweat. A rush not brought by training.  
It was the hottest season of the year.

**Spring**

Everything blooms as if woken by a lover's trailing lips in the morning sun. Rays peep through window slits, shining on contentment and joy lying side by side. Bruised eyes flutter then close. A pale body presses against another while a tanned hand encircles it. An innate search for warmth and more? Hands clasp each other.

_I'm with you now._  
It was the springtime of youth.


	2. Things come to an end

Note: To be read slooowly unless the punctuation marks(or lack of) say so!   
Disclaimer: Only the writing belongs to me. Characters belong to Kishimoto-sensei.

**FOUR SEASONS (V.2)**  
by chinesefirethorn

**Spring**

Everything blooms as if woken by a lover's trailing lips in the morning sun. Rays peep through window slits, shining on contentment and joy lying side by side. Bruised eyes flutter then close. A pale body presses against another while a tanned hand encircles it. An innate search for warmth and more? Hands clasp each other.

_I'm with you now._  
It was the springtime of youth.

**Summer**

Sunlight, with its heat, bores down on skin. Tanned muscled skin. Solid objects blur around the edges as they are pounded on by waves only slightly visible. Stifling, but the perfect excuse to train topless. Thud. Kick. Crack. Punch. Back at my favorite training stump.

Another hit, solid wall, a jolt in my concentration. Water rushing, the sound echoes in the rainless skies. A tendril of yellow beckons then merges with its kind. He flicks his eyes up and straightens from his slouch.

Flushed skin with no trace of sweat. A rush not brought by training.  
It was the hottest season of the year.

**Fall**

Red. Crimson shades and coarse textures. Strands tossed and played with by the wind. Yellow. Saffron grains shifting and hissing. Glimpses of dark-ringed emeralds through a whirl of sand. Orange. A leaf falls, gently, slowly, floating down… until a bandaged hand catches it.

Nostalgia can be a painful companion.  
It was the season of colors.

**Winter**

Purity. Blinding white powder cream sliding sloshing turning falling yelling landing blinking smiling laughing BE still. Listening… A sigh. Standing wiping brushing walking trudge trudge foot sinking all that is left are footprints in the snow.

No one is with you.  
It was the loneliest season of the year.


End file.
